


Hard Truths

by alkjira, diemarysues



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Crack, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 01:09:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alkjira/pseuds/alkjira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/diemarysues/pseuds/diemarysues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diplomatic. Subtle. Durins. </p><p>Which word does not belong? </p><p>Luckily, Bilbo knows how to handle it by now. And Tauriel is quickly figuring it out. (Unfortunately her methods are not yet Legolas approved. Yet.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard Truths

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the events of the Hobbit, and in a world where Tolkien didn't break anyone's heart.
> 
> I [alkjira] don't really think there's a point to this story. It just happened. In our emails. Um, enjoy?

“I love everything about you,” Thorin murmured as he gathered Bilbo close to his chest. “Absolutely everything.” His fingers carded through curly locks of honey-brown hair, from the crown of Bilbo’s head to the nape of his neck. Hmm. “Almost everything,” he amended, after a moment’s thought.  
  
“What?” Bilbo asked, squirming in Thorin’s hold to be able to look his husband in the eyes. They were in bed, after just finishing making love, and it was possible that pleasure had loosened Thorin’s tongue a tad too much…

“Well...” he hedged, sighing when Bilbo’s eyes narrowed. “It's your ears.”  
  
“My ears?” His Consort raised a hand to touch one of said ears. “What about them?”  
  
“They're...” Thorin had a moment to wonder if he really _should_ continue. Then again, Bilbo wouldn’t rest until he received answers that satisfied. And lying wasn't even an option. “They’re pointed. Like an _Elf’s_.”

For a few moments Bilbo said nothing, and the silence lasted long enough that Thorin cautiously allowed himself to relax once more. If his statement would have truly angered Bilbo, he would have made his opinion clear by now. Thorin let his hand slip down Bilbo’s side, stopping at the generous curve of his hip.  
  
“Thorin, have I mentioned how much I like your hair?”  
  
Well, it was an incongruous statement, considering what they’d been talking about but he couldn’t deny that Bilbo had mentioned such things before. He’d compared the feel of it to rough silk, and the grey in it to silver. All romantic nonsense of course, but Thorin might have preened a little, if a bit confusedly. What had his hair to do with -  
  
“Especially how it is long and braided, like the _Elves’_?”

“But I have a beard!” Immediately after speaking, Thorin felt like rolling over and suffocating himself with his pillow. True, he did have a beard, no argument there, but that was hardly the best defence. No, he should have pointed out that the Elves’ hair were nothing like Dwarven hair, instead of saying something which -

“There is an Elf with a beard you know,” Bilbo said smugly, pillowing his head on Thorin’s chest once again.

Thorin frowned. “There is  _not_!” The very thought was ridiculous and absurd. Almost treasonous.

“Are you calling me a liar?” his husband asked sweetly, trailing his fingers through the hair on Thorin’s chest. The Dwarf felt a bit like a cat being petted. An extremely large and majestic cat of course.

“Well, no, but –”

“There should be ‘but' at the end of that sentence.”

“But -”

“No!” At Thorin’s sullen look Bilbo relented a little. “Your beard is of course the handsomest,” he said, hand creeping up to cup a bristly cheek. “And the only one I like to feel between my thighs.”

Oh. Well. At least that was something.  
  
-

Legolas felt uneasy.  
  
They were in Erebor on diplomatic business (if there was a positive way to deal with Dwarves that was not diplomatic then he did not know about it, and here the prince’s mind queasily shied away from Tauriel and her relationship with the two young princes), and while the King Under the Mountain was never the image of hospitality, he usually didn’t spend so much time staring intently at them either. And was he staring at their chins in particular?  
  
“ _Father_ ,” Legolas murmured in their own tongue. “ _Why does he keep staring_?”

“ _Because I'm so pretty_?” Thranduil cleared his throat. _“I mean, he's clearly addled. Try to ignore him.”_

Legolas tried. And failed. And his fingers began itching for the comfort of a bow. The Dwarf hadn't been staring when there'd been a bow involved. Just glaring, but that was preferable.  
  
-

The Elves of Mirkwood had no beards. That much Thorin had been able to conclude from that day’s meeting. But there were more Elves scattered across Arda, and Thorin had no desire to go and stare at them all; he felt ill enough from the time he had devoted to the task already. A new plan was needed.  
  
Kíli looked utterly confused. “Uncle?”.  
  
“I said: could you enquire, subtly, of your…” Thorin had to force himself not to make a childishly disgusted face, “– with Captain Tauriel, if there are any Elves who have beards. _Subtly_ ,” Thorin stressed.

“Subtly?” Kíli asked, and Thorin despaired quietly. Perhaps he should have asked Fíli. Come to think of it, why _hadn’t_ he asked Fíli?  
  
-

“Tauriel, do Elves have beards?”  
  
Two red eyebrows travelled high up enough on a pale forehead to almost meet the roots of even redder hair. Fíli pressed his hand to his face, making a mental note to speak to his brother about the meaning of the word ‘subtle’. He hadn’t been present for Thorin’s conversation with Kíli, and presumed that their Uncle had lacked the patience to explain such a thing.

“I'm not going to grow one,” Tauriel said cautiously.

“Lucky for you, brother,” Fíli muttered. “Imagine if she did: even Tauriel would have more beard than you.” He met two sets of glares with a smirk and raised an eyebrow. Then Tauriel narrowed her eyes and Fíli did not squirm in his seat. Absolutely not.

“Shut up,” Kíli demanded. He dropped the glare, expression changing to earnest curiosity almost within a second, turning back to their Elf. “But really, are there Elves with beards?”

It was clear that Tauriel was still suspicious, because her tone remained cautious, as if waiting for a trap. “There is one that I know of. He is called Cirdan, the shipwright.”

“Oh,” Fíli said, because he hadn’t actually expected there to be any. Why Thorin had asked first Kíli, and then him to find out in the first place was completely beyond him. But it at least seemed a little less crazy now that Tauriel had revealed that there were indeed bearded Elves. Or at least one.

Still fairly crazy though.

Tauriel crossed her arms over her chest. “Why do you ask?”

“Thorin wanted to know,” Kíli replied with a small shrug, and Fíli shook his head. Subtle. Yeah. Somewhere in Erebor Thorin probably had a sudden sense of foreboding, without really being sure why. Still…

“Why _did_  Thorin want to know? He didn’t tell me that.” He’d looked shifty and slightly pained, and had told Fíli to conduct their questioning in private, but he’d not explained why the information was so vital.

Kíli shrugged again. “How should I know? He just asked me to ask. And then he asked you. Which was completely unnecessary I might add.”

Given that Kíli _would_ have told him anyway, Fíli found he couldn’t dispute this.

“I did not come here to talk about your uncle's oddness,” Tauriel pointed out. “So do you think there is a chance that we might stop?”

“What _did_ you come here for?” Fíli murmured, smiling innocently when the Elf turned his way. “Besides our asking you to, of course.”

“Well… while not all Elves have beards, some have come to enjoy their feel,” she replied, a slow smile spreading over her lips, and she uncrossed her arms to rest her hands at her waist. A calculated action for sure, to draw their gazes to the soft curve of her body. Fíli shook his head and playfully smacked his forehead.

“So that's why we're in our private chambers. Never would've guessed.”

“I almost thought I was invited solely to talk about your uncle,” Tauriel said drily.   
  
“Didn't you want to stop talking about him?” Kíli asked, leaning against his brother.

He slipped his arm around Kíli’s waist. “You're not doing a very good job of it,” Fíli added.

“Perhaps we should stop talking then.” Tauriel fisted her hands in their shirts, and pulled the two unresisting princes close enough so that their mouths could busy themselves with other things.   
  
-  
  
At the same moment Thorin woke with a start. Bilbo murmured something vaguely disgruntled at the sudden movement, burrowing in closer to Thorin’s side.

Thorin wasn’t quite sure what had roused him from his slumber; perhaps a bad dream? He felt… uneasy. However, as he gazed down at his husband, that uneasiness was quickly chased away by affection.  
  
Very gently he ran a finger along the shell of a pointed ear. Yes, it was indeed pointed. But it still was a part of Bilbo, so in a way he couldn’t help but love it, despite the Elven similarity.  
  
“If you’d just let your hair grow long,” Thorin whispered. “Then there would be no issue.”  
  
Bilbo would look gorgeous, _more_ gorgeous, with long hair. Long enough for him to have proper braids made. Thorin frowned. Or would braids mean that his ears showed again?  
  
“Darling, I can _hear_ you thinking about my ears,” Bilbo muttered sleepily. “Unless you wish to wake up one day without your beard, I suggest that you stop.”  
  
“That’s treason,” Thorin pointed out.  
  
“Want to exile me to Mirkwood?”  
  
Grumbling Thorin allowed himself to be pulled down into a warm embrace. Tomorrow he’d think of a plan to get Bilbo to stop cutting his hair. And he wouldn’t ask his nephews for help. He had a feeling that his last decision to do so would end up biting him in the arse, and not in the fun way.  
  
-  
  
“Bilbo,” Thorin hissed. “Why is she staring at me?”  
  
Bilbo glanced at Tauriel who did indeed seem to be staring at Thorin.  
  
“Well I don’t know, have you done something to offend her?”  
  
“Why do you think that _I’_ ve done something?” Thorin asked, and Bilbo hid a smile. Thorin was adorable when he was sulking, and it wouldn’t do to point out that the King was adorable when he was trying to be straight-faced and regal in front of the visiting Elves.  
  
“Kíli and Fíli then?” Bilbo suggested. “Though from their… _happy_ smiles I don’t think ‘offended’ is the right word.”  
  
The look Thorin sent him was not amused, and Bilbo bit his lip. He would not giggle. He would not.

**Author's Note:**

> LeggyxGimli 4evah! :D *runs away giggling*


End file.
